Saturday, March 16, 2013

The Bells of Philadelphia

I made my way to the top of the building, up the fire escape.  In new places, I like to explore my way to the highest point.  What I found was beautiful.

Up the fire escape to the deck of someone's presently departed apartment.  I stood on the metal fire escape, sipping hot honey ginger crystals.  The mug kept my cold hands warm.

A greyed Philadelphia skyline. With the jagged skyscraper as a beacon of light.  Like a lighted buoy in the sea grey sky.  Like a phosphorescent torch in a grey sea. Burn like a beacon, and then we'll be gone.

A view of Philadelphia I have never seen before.

From Independence Hall, a bell rang out across the fog.  One, slowly by another.  Slowly by another.  Seven bells for the seventh hour.  Filling the evening's silence with a

A line of neon ran across the Avenue of the Arts.

After the peals died down, I slowly made my back down the fire escape.  I had no business being there.

I returned back up the fire escape the following morning to see the view in its full regalia.  A clear panorama of Philadelphia.  Gloria Philadelphia.  As a siren streaked across the silent sky.

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